Darkest before the dawn
by Lilyssy
Summary: For the members of the Fellowship, Legolas was sort of a mystery; a great friend, a vigilent allie, sometimes serious, sometimes not. But none of them knew much about his past. He has yet faced death and pain, as so many have faced in a world at war. He remembers one night in particular, one of the darkest of them.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all its characters, languages and places do not belong to me and I don't earn any money for writing this story.

Warning: for graphic depiction of violence and major character death

Author's note: Hello everyone! I started this fan fiction more than two years ago, when I was till reading mostly Legomances (nobody's perfect ;)) Since then I moved to other pairings (or no pairing whatsoever) and mostly spend my time in the Silmarillion fandom. But I dislike starting something without finishing it, so here it is. This was one of the way I imagine Legolas could have had someone at some point in the past. Even if I am sure that he could totally find his happily ever after without a soulmate and that romance is not necessarily a life goal, this idea popped into my mind. The title is taken from Florence and the Machine's 'Shake it out'. Everything elvish in this story comes from Real Elvish, Dreamingfifi's website which is an endless mine of information.

I don't know if the story is canon compliant. Legolas' age, for instance, has been widely discussed in the fandom, and even if I mostly agree with the fact he must have been born somewhere during the second (or even third) millenium of the Third Age, for the sake of this story I made him born before TA 1050. He has thus known Mirkwood when it was rather safe and still called Greenwood the Great. I don't label this story as an AU, but as it contains original characters, this dimention should be taken into consideration. I also took a few liberty with Legolas' family, adding a few elves. It's less sad this way.

Just one last thing, English is not my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistake I left or weird phrasing. I'd gladly have a beta if anyone is up to the challenge :) Let me know what you think with a review, I'm always happy to chat about Tolkien and fandom, my inbox is open.

Enjoy

oOo

 _Mirkwood, TA 2251_

Never the forest has appeared so dark to his eyes, even after the hundreds of years he has spent under its trees. He obviously saw the darkness growing, helplessly witnessed the death of Green Wood the Great and the birth of what other realms now call Mirkwood. He saw the trees becoming sick, their song dulling to a broken whisper full of melancholy and regret for the Elder Days. He saw giant spiders spinning their webs amongst the branches, absorbing the vital energy of the vegetation. He still remembers is father moving their capital northward to protect their people, leaving behind the home he has known as a child. He also saw the packs of orcs getting closer to the caverns they now live in. He grieved the death of too many of his men, led many patrols in the forest to destroy as many of their enemies as possible.

And even with all the horrors his eyes have seen, even after all those images of nightmare, never has he seen such a dark night falling over his realm. So dark that even his elven sight has difficulties to distinct the orcs he is slaying. Neither the silver light of _Ithil_ nor the distant glow of the stars can be seen, as if the darkness covers the whole world.

Their patrol has yet started as any other. He took several soldiers of the Woodland guard with him, and they departed as the horizon had started to claim the sun, , turning the sky in shades of purple, orange and gold. For many minutes, they scouted the forest with their keen eyes, attentive to each sound, to each shadow. They were on foot, horses would have been to noisy to his liking. They jumped from branch to branch, from tree to tree, as a second part of their group was watching the ground. They moved efficiently, silent as the light wind blowing in the foliage of the forest. Their patrol was supposed to be short as night was coming fast.

But night has fully fallen now, and they are still here, in this meadow that has turned into a battle field. This pack of orcs has taken them by surprise, unusually discrete for these foul creatures. They have been cunning, and the elves have soon found themselves outnumbered. He made the risky decision to spare one of his warriors to warn the capital and call for reinforcement.

That was long minutes ago. And no reinforcement is in sight. They are running out of time, and he does not know what to do.

The chaos of battle surrounds him; the growls of their enemies, the noise of the arrows of his men; the clash of their daggers against the rusted blades of the orcs. The smell of the forest during an autumn downpour disappears under the stench of rottenness coming from their opponents. He has put his bow aside in favor of his twin blades. His daggers are almost an extension of his arms; they fly in the air, defeating every attack aimed at him. They slit throats, cut limbs, pierce hearts in a mortal dance.

Orcs have been entering the meadow for several minutes now. Or has it been hours? He cannot tell. He relies on his instincts, his only goal is to survive and protect those he can. This fight is messy, a carnage. There has been no time for neither strategy nor plan, they struggle and slay, because there is nothing else they can do.

He knows he is covered in gore; the wound his weapons causes are there to kill on the spot, they send black blood everywhere, staining his clothes, his face and hair and the grass of the meadow, once of a bright green. This is violence on its purest form, the desperate energy of those who want to see the next dawn. It is instinctive, primitiv. Maybe was it this way the first elves who awoke on the shore of Lake Cuiviénen fought against the creatures of Morgoth who came to take them away. Weapons did not exist yet, they must have struggled with wooden sticks, rocks... or their own bare hands. Legolas can only speculate, but the raw strength he puts in this fight feels like an ancient force, when the world knew no sun or moon and the Valar had not yet put an end to the reign of Morgoth on Middle Earth.

He feels a shift in the air, as if a temporary lull is coming. He looks around him to assess the damage this fight has caused, and what he sees make his heart sinks. Too many elven bodies are motionless on the ground, either wounded or worse. Legolas also realizes that the number of their ennemies is diminishing all but slowly. Too slowly. They seem to have the upper hand now though, it is only a matter of minutes. They have to resist, to keep fighting, the end is coming. Just a few more minutes...

He is startled back to the chaos around him when a cry resounds in the air. This cry makes is body stiffen, hurts his ears and pierces is heart. It is a cry full of agony, of anger, dismay and pain. A female cry that he recognizes instantly.

And for an instant, the world stops spinning.

oOo

 _Greenwood the Great, TA 1045_

The forest was almost silent as he stood here, on the branch of an oak tree. All his senses were focused on his surrounding; he heard the Forest River farther eastward and the singing of the birds, smelt the spring flowers growing in a little meadow nearby, felt the rays of the sun on his face.

But the most attentive of his senses was his sight. His keen blue eyes were focused on its target, dozens of yards from his standing point. He saw nothing than this apple, attached to the branch of a tree by a thin string, dangling in the light wind.

His cousin Gwaerenor had been clear: he would have the right to eat this apple — and the rest of the fruits they had picked up, raspberries and blackberries amongst them – only if he managed to hit the target from this tree. And Legolas loved blackberries. Very much. So he had to reach the apple, it was the most important thing in his young mind at the moment.

He slowly bended is bow and knocked an arrow to the string, narrowing his eyes to get a better view. His body was stiff with concentration, its only movement was his hair fluttering in the wind. He could see the apple clearly now, he could predict where it would be next, the time his arrow would take to reach it. He was ready to release his arrow... It was almost time...

And suddenly, something hit the branch on which Legolas was crouched down. In his surprise, he released is arrow and lost his grip on his bow, almost falling from his perch. He managed to grab the branch at the last second, hanging in the air by only one arm. Everything happened in the blink of an eye, and the young ellon had hardly the time to comprehend what just occurred when he heard someone laughing just above him.

He looked up at the source of this laugh and found himself staring at a brunette elleth. Not an elfling anymore, but not yet an adult. She was looking smug and her gray eyes were filled with restrained mirth.

Legolas's jaw clenched. He should have seen it coming. He had been to focused on his target and had thus forgotten one of the most important lessons his fencing master had taught him: always being aware of his surrounding. He had not been, and he had let this elleth sneak up on him.

His dismay turned into frustration and annoyance when he saw the young elleth bending her own bow to shoot an arrow. It soon reached the apple that he was aiming at, and she flashed him a self-satisfied smirk that made Legolas blood boil.

She laughed again before coming down from the tree. The prince watched her, trying to keep his composure. He soon followed her, his feet landing on the ground only few seconds later. He took a look around in order to find the arrow he had released in his surprise, but it seemed to be lost. He grimaced, his archery instructor would not be pleased when he would learn that...

Legolas then heard footsteps approaching and turned around to see who it may be. He spotted the brunette elleth who had stolen his basket of blackberries on his right and found the source of the footsteps, those of two other ellyn coming their way. They were Gwaerenor, Legolas's cousin and Ferdir, one of their best friends. The later was caring a basket of fruits and was looking from Legolas to the elleth; he looked like he did not know which of them should get the reward.

As for Gwaerenor, he also looked at the two young archers, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. «It seems that you have lost our bet, cousin,» he said to Legolas matter-of-factly.

«I had not hear her coming,» the prince poorly defended himself.

«That is not really my problem, but yours,» Gwaerenor took the basket of berries from Ferdir's hands and, to his cousin's utter frustration, he turned to the young elleth. «I believe this reward is yours, my lady,» he added courteously, holding the so-called reward out to her.

«You are very generous, my lord,» she nodded, accepting the present. «I do not know if I am deserving of such a gift.»

«You certainly are. _Agorel vê, heryn vill_ ,» Gwaerenor exaggeratedly praised her.

« _Ant lîn vîr mi 'ûr nîn. Le fêl, hîr vuin._ »

«I hope you are not too offended by this defeat, _mellon nín»_ " Ferdir nudged Legolas teasingly.

« would like to contest her victory,» the prince pointed at the brunette elleth. «She was not part of the bargain and thus had not agreed with our conditions and was not in the run for the reward.»

«If it is just a matter of berries, _ernil nín_ , I will gladly share with you»" the young elleth proposed, slightly bowing her head in fake deference to Legolas.

«It is not a matter of berries,» the pride wounded ellon replied. When he saw her raising an eyebrow, he added «not only, at least."

«Then accept a part of this basket as a token of my admiration in your attend to win this bet."

Legolas did not miss the mocking tone in her words, but instead of feeling exasperated, he started to laugh with the girl. Gwaerenor and Ferdir soon joined them, used to their constant competition. There was not a day without the prince of Eryn Galen and the daughter of the captain of the guard entering a contest, always more colorful than the last. They were both great archers and, where Legolas was a formidable adversary when it came to the blade, his comrade expressed her talent in hand to hand combat.

«Shall we find a spot to sit and enjoy those berries, then?» asked Gwaerenor impatiently.

«I said I will share it with Legolas,» the elleth reminded him with mischief. «What does tell you I will share with you as well?"

«Laineryn, _mellon nín_ , do you have no mercy for a poor starving ellon?"

Laineryn flashed a grin at him, and she took Legolas's hand before running away. Soon, they were chased by Ferdir and Gwaerenor who wanted their share of the basket of fruits. The sound of voices and laughter could be heard in the forest, mingling with the happy songs of trees and birds.

They spent the rest of the afternoon lying in the tender grass of a meadow, enjoying the warmth of the spring sun, the sound of water and the delicious berries. They talked, laughed and played, in the innocence of their youth. They spent most of their free time together and had become inseparable over the first decades of their lives. Despite Legolas and Gwaerenor's statuses as respectively son and nephew of the king, no formalities existed when they were alone. As for their attitudes in court, they felt a great amusement in exaggerating their words and curtsies, to the utter despair of their tutors.

Anor had already started her descent to the west when they came back to the capital. They walk, companionably bantering on the streets of the cities, greeting elves they recognized with the wave of a hand or a small bow of the head. They soon reached the palace, passing the guards at the entrance, the four ellyn glancing at them with a small smile on their faces before such young merriment.

As soon as they entered the main courtyard, the four teen elves spotted a tall and dark haired figure standing down the stairs leading to the main doors of the palace. They were wearing the gray and green uniform of the woodland wardens, a sword at their hip. When they recognized them, the group of elves stopped chatting and the tall ellon stepped towards them, bowing to Legolas and Gwaerenor.

''My lords,'' he greeted them with a formality that was pure sindarin.

"Captain," both princes replied.

"Laineryn, I have been looking for you," the captain turned to his daughter. "You should not return home so late, your mother is worried for you."

"I am sorry, _Adar_ ," the brunette elleth said. "Legolas and I started a friendly archery competition and we did not see the time."

"Laineryn, how many times did I tell you to address the Prince properly when you speak of him?" her father scolded.

"There is no need for such formality, captain," Legolas intervened. "Laineryn and I have been friends for many years now."

"I understand your point, my lord, but there will be a time when Laineryn will become either a warden of the royal guard or a lady of the court and such familiarity will be accepted no longer. She must learn to behave accordingly."

Legolas watched Laineryn's reaction at her father's words and he was not surprised to see her fists clench. Húrdir had always had great expectations for his daughter, and even if the prince would never doubt the love he had for her, his friends did not appreciate to be reprimanded in front of other. She had her pride, something she took after Húrdir, pride that had the tendency to flare at very inappropriate moments.

"I am sorry, _ernil nín_ ," she said to him.

Legolas felt the sudden urge to take her hand to comfort her but restrained himself, he did not want to take part to the dispute between his friend and the king's captain, it was not his place.

Laineryn and Húrdir stared at each other, both their eyes defiant, before the young elleth bowed her head in resignation. Her father gestured for her to bid her friends goodnight and once it had been done, they both turned around to enter the palace.

Legolas, Gwaerenor and Ferdir exchanged looks, and the later shrugged. The king's son looked back in the direction his friend had disappeared and thought how he was not looking forward to growing up; he loved to much their escapes in the forest, their friendly banters and the carelessness of their youth. They would soon have responsibilities, though, so he would have to enjoy the years to come as much as he could.

oOo

Fear pulses through him like a second heartbeat, flowing in his veins and paralysing his senses. His mind knows that he is in the middle of a battlefield and that any second of distraction can be fatal to him. But he cannot seem to process what is happening or force his body to move.

"Legolas, behind you!"

The warning brings him back to reality, and he has just the time to duck and avoid the arrow aimed at his head. He turns back and grabs one of the smaller daggers hidden in one of his pockets, before sending it flying in the orc's direction. It hits its target between the eyes, and the creature falls, stone dead. Other orcs are coming his way, and he can do nothing but fighting back; his body moves on instinct, his blows are still deadly, but his mind is elsewhere. The only coherent thought he can form is that he has to reach the elleth who cried with such agony. He must go.

The orcs must have felt their end is coming because they launch themselves in a last attempt to defeat the elves. Their assaults are more violent, quicker and messier, but the arrow they shoot, the blows of their swords or their fists are not less brutal. The last of them are fiercely fighting for their lives, and Legolas and the remaining members of his patrol have to be careful and swift.

When the last orc is slain and its body hits the ground, a deadly silence falls on the meadow. The nightbirds have stopped singing long ago, but neither the wind in the trees nor the sound of rain can be heard. Legolas does not know if the silence comes from the blood still rushing in his ears, the chock of the battle or the numbness of his senses now that he no longer has to focus on fighting. But sounds come back eventually, and he can distinct the complains of wounded elves, groans and himpering of pain and the rapid sylven dialect spoken by those who are still standing and who comes to help their conrads.

He reacts quickly after that, remembering the urgency of the situation. He scans the scene, and the spectacle is horrific; bodies lie strewn the ground, of both orcs and elves. The former are all dead, various types of weapons sticking out of their carcass at random angles. Legolas feels a certain satisfaction at the sight; as his cousin Gwaerenor would say: "a good orc is a dead orc " and the ellon could not agree more. They will have to burn all the corpses and this morbid pyre would let a indelible trace on the meadow.

Legolas looks down and sees that his feet are wading in a mix of mud, torn grass, dead leaves, guts and blood. Out of the blue, his mind conveys the memory of the golden light of Anor bathing a green meadow, of two elves enjoying a lazy day in the middle of white and yellow flowers... The contrast with his current condition is so uncanny that it is almost absurd. He is not sure this meadow is the one of his memory, but he used to visit this kind of place with...

His head snaps back as he frantically search the place. After what seem like hours, he eventually sees the one he his looking for.

And the sight is more terrific than what his worst nightmares and fears could have conveyed. Bile raises to his throat and he has to stop himself from looking away.

oOo

Translations:

Ithil: the moon

Gwaerenor: windyman

Ferdir: hunter

Agorel vê, heryn vill(formal) : you did well, my lady

Ant lîn vîr mi 'ûr nîn. Le fêl, hîr vuin (formal):I shall treasure your gift in my heart. I thank you, my lord.

Mellon nín: my friend

Ernil nín: my prince

Eryn Galen: Greenwood

Laineryn: free woods

Anor: the sun

Hurdír: ready for action

Adar: father


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all its characters, languages and places do not belong to me and I don't earn any money for writing this story.

Warning: for depiction of injuries and major character death

A/N: second chapter. Sorry in advance for the melodrama/tragedy at the end. Thanks to those how faved or followed this story. Please, if you have the time, drop a little review. Next update coming soon.

oOo

 _Greenwood the Great, TA 1184_

Legolas was running through the corridors of the cavern city, trying to avoid the people whom with he crossed path. He shouted an apology or raised a hand to excuse is rapid pace, he was on a hurry and could not wait to get out. His heart was pounding in his chest, is throat constricted with tears that he did not want to let out. ' _What are you, a child?'_ he chidded himself. But even those words, inwardly pronounced, did not have any effect on him. He was upset, for good reasons as far as he was concerned.

He could not let it show on his face however, he was the crown prince of this realm, by the Valar. Even if his title did not held much significance in the sylven culture as it would in Noldorin society for instance, it still was expected from him to look composed in any situation.

' _And you think that running down the hallway this way makes you look composed?_ ' a voice said reprovingly in his head, startingly ressembling his father's...

Legolas eventually slowed down his race, passing the main door in long strides rather than a full speed run. He didn't pay any attention to the guards posted at the entrance; the security of their borders and their home had been increazed lately, under the threat of the darkness that had started to creep into their forest. But security and turn of guards were far from the young ellon's preoccupations at the moment. He needed to find Laineryn, as soon as possible. He could not still believe what he had to tell her...

It had happened the morning of the same day. Legolas' parents had invited him to join them for breakfast in the private lounge of their suite, as it sometimes occured. At one hundred and eighty years of age, the young warrior was now concidered an adult, and it was no longer expected from him that he took all his meals with his parents. He had moved out of the royal suite a few years before for his own private room, if still in the same wing than the place when he grew up. He though rarely missed an occasion to spend time with his family, unless he was away on the border. He had thus met his parents and his little sister for the morning meal and had been glad to see them.

They had eaten peacefullly, trading lighthearted conversations about their occupations of the day ahead, the last song his mother had composed or Calwen's more recent adventures; his sister was only five years old and had inherited the same intrepid personality as her father and brother.

Legolas was enjoying the moment. He was at that instant adoringly looking at his sister who had sat on his lap and started to pick at the remaining grapes in his plate. Her golden curls tickled his chin but the ellon did not mind; he knew he was to soft with her, but as her older sibling, it was his role to spoile her whereas his parents were in charge of the more boring aspect of education.

Above the head of Calwen, he saw his parents staring at each other, as if they were exchanging silent words. Legolas had seen them act that way on many occasions; he knew Thranduil and Cellindis shared a deep bond, as only two _fëars_ binded by mariage did. He could remember all the times he had seen his parents exchanging a kiss, a loving look or an embrace, and even if it had embarrassed him when he was an elfling, for their love implied emotions too great for his young heart to comprehend, he now saw their union like something to treasure and cherish... Something he hoped he would find some day. Maybe with...

Legolas shook himself; he ought not to think of her that way. They were friends, only friends. And it was fine that way... Was it not?

"Legolas, there is something your mother and I would like to discuss with you."

The voice of his father, serious and grave, brought him back to reality, and Legolas focused his attention on his parents in front of him. If his father's face was devoid of any emotion, as it was when he acted in public or in council as the king of his people, his mother was trying to look calm. But Legolas could see that she had grabbed the hand of her husband in reassurance, for herself or for his _adar_ , the ellon could not tell. But the expressions of their faces worried Legolas.

"What is it, _adar_?" the young prince asked, holding Calwen closer to his chest to find comfort.

"You are not without knowing that there is a possibility you will some day replace me as the king of our people," his father began.

Legolas grimaced; he hated when his father broached the topic of his heritage. He knew that he was the crown prince of _Eryn Galen_ , and that it would be expected from him to govern if something must happen to his father or if he had to sail West. But it was such a foreign and distant concept that Legolas forgot it, most of the time. He could not see a reason which would force his father to depart for the Undying Lands, unless he lost his mother but the young ellon did not even want for his thoughts to go that way. As for his father losing his life... He could not deny that their realm had become more dangerous for a few decades now. The ruins of what had ance been Amon Lanc were now infested with orcs and a dark force that the elves could not yet name. More terrible than the orcs, though, were the giant spiders that had started to creep into the woods by the East. Legolas knew the risks the warriors of the guard, himself ammong them, took everytime they left for a patrol. But his father's role was no longer this of a soldier, as it had been when Oropher still ruled over those lands in the previous age. Unless the enemy decided to launch a frontal attack against their city, there was no reason for the king to find himself face to face with one of those dark creatures. And Legolas knew that he, and the rest of the guard, would sacrifice their lives rather than letting something happen to their king.

It was why the prince could not believe that he would some day be King of Greenwood. He prayed for it to never happen. Not because the mere thought of the responseabilities the title of monarch implied scared him, even if he did not envy his father's position, sitting in council with stubborn advisors for hours on end would certainly make him mad. If he had to rule some day, he would. However, losing his _adar_ , either of his parents really, was not something he could think of. Never.

But he would let Thranduil speak of that topic this time again. For it was not his place to contradict his father, especially when the ruling of their kingdom was concerned.

«"This is not really the best way to start this conversation, _meleth nín"_ " Legolas' mother intervened, seeing her son's closed expression. "You are worrying our child."

"I am aware of it, Cellindis," Thranduil replied. "You yet know the importance of this discussion."

"I do indeed," Cellindis sighed. "Please continue, I am sorry."

Thranduil brushed her knuckles in a light kiss to reassure her that she had nothing to be sorry for and looked back at his son, still attentive.

"As I have learned when I was in your place, when your grandfather was still king of this realm, ruling imply certain knowledge;, knowledge you might not need at the moment, and not even for many centuries to come. But your mother and I think that, now that your basic training as a warrior is complete, you have time to dedicate to learn those things."

Legolas frowned. He did not know exactly what his father was talking about; there were undoubtedly things he did not know about ruling a kingdom. By Iluvatar, he could not start to imaging what the position implied. Diplomacy? Knowledge in trade and politics? Military strategy?

"I... understand the importance of this," he eventually said, hesitant. "Even if I do not yet see all the ramifications of your function, I know that there are things that I will have to learn to... be an efficient ruler, if some day the occasion arises." he paused for an instant, not knowing if he had to continue, but he decided to, "even if I hope it will never come to pass."

"We all hope, _ion nín,"_ his mother said reassuringly and Thranduil smiled at Legolas; it was an almost imperceptible move at the corner of his lips, but it was a smile nonetheless, and the ellon had come to recognize the affection in his father's expression.

"We are relieved that you understand the importance of those things you have to learn," Thranduil continued on. "After long discussions with your mother, we think the best place for you to learn would be Imladris."

The young ellon's heart skipped a beat at those words, and they took him by surprise, so much that he missed the grimace on his father's face. He would later remember it, and would understand its meaning right away; if the relations between Greenwood and Rivendell were amiable out of conveniance if a new war against the darkness should happen, there was no real friendship between the Elven King and the House of Elrond Peredhel.

The young prince's mind started to take in the words of his father, and it rebelled against the notion. Going to Imladris? Leaving the Woodland Realm behind? In that time where the Shadow had begun to threaten his people and when his role as one of the captains of the Royal Guard was to defend them? How could his father believe that he would accept such a sacrifice?

"Lord Elrond's people can offer you much knowledge," Legolas' mother intervened once more. "You would learn the way a household functions with Lord Erestor, the lore masters of Imladris are mines of information when it comes to diplomacy, politics, history and languages. As for the pursuit of your military training, Glorfindel would be a valuable asset; he has a great experience of war and would teach you everything there is to know about strategy and defense."

Cellindis' tone was heager and filled with respect, but it did not surprise her son. His mother was indeed from Imladris. His father and her had met at the end of the Second Age, a few centuries before the War of the Last Alliance, when Oropher had asked his son to represent their realm on the occasion of a reunion of all the elven kingdoms of Middle Earth. Thranduil had met Cellindis during the opening festivities on their first evening in Rivendell. She was part of the musicians and minstrels who had entertained the crowd and the Prince of Greenwood had been charmed by her beautiful voice and the raw emotions she put in her performances. They had got to know each other better in the following months, and it was a strongly unfatuated Thranduil who came back to his realm. Despite her departure from the Valley of Elrond nearly two thousands years prior, Legolas knew that his naneth still kept fond memories of Imladris and its people. It was thus easy to comprehend her praises of them.

But even if he would never contest the knowledge and skills Lord Elrond's people possessed, he could not think of going there for such a long period of time; he was needed here. The enemy was rising, and even if it could be centuries before his forces took shape and really threaten their people, he could not bring himself to leave his fellow wardens to face the danger without him. Not that he thought he was the best element of his realm's defense, but they needed all the help they could get.

Legolas looked up at his parents who were awaiting his reaction. In his lap, Calwen was babling happily, not minding the serious conversation taking place around her. Her elder envied her ignorance and innocence for a brief instant. How he wished to go back to his childhood, when his main preoccupation was to fetch an idea to challenge Laineryn. Or the food he would have on his next meal. Those were simpler times.

"We are aware that it would be your first time far from your home," Thranduil started speaking again. "And we know how you have at heart your role in the guard of our kingdom; you have proven to be a wonderful asset to our forces, many times over. This time to learn is however required for your future and this of your realm, and as such it is your duty to go."

"How... how long would I be away?" Legolas asked, swallowing hard.

"We cannot tell exactly," Cellindis replied softly, seeing her son's distress. "It could be years, decades even; it will depend on the amount of things you will have to master and the time you will require to get these knowledge."

Legolas' expression closed, and he could feel his throat tighten under the emotions raging inside his head and heart. Decades? Decades far from his home, from is people, from his family and friends? He would not see Calwen growing into the beautiful elleth she ought to become. He would no longer have the apeasing and reassuring presence of his father, the beautiful and southing voice of his mother when she sang to him to calm is doubts and fears of the future. And his friends... Gwaerenor, Ferdir, he would certainly miss them greatly.

And what about Laineryn? What if she forgot him? What if she found someone to love and, when he came back, her heart was taken by another? This mere thoughts made his heart ache, but Legolas could not ponder on the meaning of this pain; the turmoil in his head was to overwhelming for him to think properly on his feelings for Laineryn.

"We know that it is a lot of information to take in," Cellindis said reassuringly, taking one of his hands over the breakfast table. "We will let you time to think of what we have just told you, and time will also be needed to confirm your arrival To lord Elrond as well as preparing your departure for Imladris. We know it is a difficult thing we ask of you, _ionneg_ , but you must understand that this is of the upmost importance. Even if we do not speak of it openly yet, you know as much as your father and I do, that there are dark times ahead for our people. You must have seen it during your patrols in the woods, the creatures of the Shadow had started to invade our realm. We have felt it as well, the forest in the South is becoming sick and the ruins of what had ance been the dwelling of our people is infested with horrific things. We shall be prepared for what is to come as much as we can. This would be difficult for you, your _adar_ and I are aware of it, but it is necessaryfor our future."

"I understand, mother," Legolas said. "But decades, far from my home, from you, adar and Calwen..."

"You are still young, Legolas," Thranduil replied with a soft voice that the young warrior had rarely heard from him since when he was a little elfling. "Decades seem to be a great amount of time for you, but you will see in time that in the eternity of our existence, this would be merely the blink of an eye."

"And you will also find friends in Imladris," Cellindis added. "You do not know them yet, but the elder sons of Lord Elrond are about your age, as is Lady Arwen. As for Lady Celebrían, she is a kindhearted elleth. I am sure you will find a warm welcome and friendship in their household."

The prince did not contest his mother's words; she knew the imladrhim better than him, and he had heard that the valley was a beauty of nature to behold. But it was too early for him to see the good things in what he thought of as his exile. Maybe was he exagerating, but he was to emotional to think rationally at the moment.

"I think I need time to reflect on this information," he eventually said, looking back at his parents. "Would you excuse me from the rest of this meal? Some fresh air would help me to ponder on what this departure imply."

"Of course, you can go," his mother aproved as his father nodded his assent.

Legolas thanked them with a poor smile and then took Calwen in his arms to depose her on her chair. He kissed her golden head and caressed her cheek tenderly. The elfling babled happily, trying to catch her brother's finger to keep him near, but Legolas slightly shook his head negatively. He deposed a futhering kiss on her brows and was gone.

His race had now led him outside the main building of their underground city, and he took an instant to scan his surrounding to see if he could find Laineryn. The urge to speak to his friend still made his heart beat faster as was the apprehension he felt at the perspective of telling her the news.

Legolas eventually spotted the elleth, not far from the market place of the outer city. She was sitting on the edge of a stonewall, her feet dangling in the air. She had a strange look about her, her eyes were lost in the distance and her face, usually so expressive, was closed. Legolas saw she was wearing a light blue gown, and frowned at that sight; it was usually the time for her sword training with the fencing master of the guard, thus it was surprising to see her in that outfit.

She must had heard him coming because she looked up when Legolas was only a few feet away from her. And the distress and doubts he saww in her eyes made him flinche slightly, and he wondered if something had also happened to her.

"I am relieved to see you," he said in way of greeting. "I have something I would like to tell you about... If you are not otherwize occupied."

"I am not," Laineryn replied. "I was actually hoping to find you here as well. I have also something to tell you, but I can see that you are greatly disturbed by this matter of which you want to talk. Please, speak to me, what is troubling you so, _mellon nín_?"

Legolas hesitated for an instant, seeing the turmoil of emotions his friend tried to hide. She was, as always, putting his wellbeing before her own, a trait of personality he admired greatly. He briefly wondered if there was anything he did not admire in Laineryn, but diverted his thoughts from this matter; she had invited him to pour his heart and release his anguish, and he thanked Iluvatar for such a wonderful person in his life.

"I just had a disconcerting conversation with the King and the Queen," Legolas started, showing by this denomination, his parents had to be considered as the rulers of their realm for this discussion in particular.

And Legolas wanted to think that it was the rulers that sent him to Imladris, not his parents. A ridiculous nuance maybe, but one which recomforted him somehow.

"What was it about?" Laineryn asked when he paused to ponder what to say next.

"It was about the fact that, as the crown prince of this kingdom, there are certain things that I have to learn."

"But... is it not too soon to think this far ahead?" the elleth exclaimed. "I cannot imagine something, either it is an event or a person, that would remove the king from his duty. And, as members of the guards, we will do anything in our power to protect him."

"That is also my feeling on the matter," Legolas said, pacing nervously. "but my parents think otherwise; it is not something they see happening in a foreseable future, they yet want to be prepared for this eventuality. They mentionned the darkness that is slowly invading our forest and are, as much as the rest of us, afraid for the centuries to come. Our enemy may not have found back his might and power of old, but it is certainly pursuing that goal. We need to be as ready as we can be, I guess."

"This is something on which wwe agree," Laineryn nodded. "And one topic that you and I have already long discussed. I thus do not really understand what is troubling you. Is it the perspective of what facing your heritage implies? Are you afraid that this will come to the loss of your adar?"

"It is not what disturb me, even if I cannot fathom losing either of my parents," her friend replied thoughtfuly. "As you said, we are all aware of the danger our people will certainly face in the future, either it is near or far. The problem is..." he stopped for a second, gathering is thoughts and feeling to said what he was about to reveal. "The problem is that my parents want me to learn all a ruler should know from specific people. They are sending me to Imladris."

The silence that followed was heavy and stretched for long seconds, making Legolas nervous. He could see that Laineryn was taking in the information, and the ellon could not blame her for the time she needed to do so. He had himself still difficulties to accept the fact that, in a few months, he would be far from his home. A sad smile eventually appeared on Laineryn's lips, and her answer was not what Legolas had been expecting.

"It seems that our parents have consulted together," she said weakly.

"What do you mean?" Legolas frowned.

He saw Laineryn took a deep breath before starting her own explanation.

"I had the same kind of conversation you had this morning. My parents wanted to speak to me about my future. Apparently, they had been thinking and talking about it for some time, and did not judge that telling me was an option."

She paused for an instant and the warrior could see her resentment for her parents.

"They cannot come to an agreement about if I should pursuit my training to become a warrior or if it would not be best for me to step down and become a proper lady of the court."

She spat the last words with disdain, something which did not surprise her friend. Legolas knew that Laineryn wished to follow her father's steps in the royal guard; she was brave, skilled with a bow and a blade and certainly possessed the assurance of a future leader. But, probably out of fear for her safety, her parents had always discussed the possibility she became something else entirely. She was also skilled in sewing, she handled a niddle with the same dexterity she manied the sword. Her voice was beautiful enough and her manners were, if a bit rude at times, well fitted for a courtly life. But Legolasthought, as many of the others elves who knew his friend, that she was destined to be a warrior. She loved fighthing, as contrary to the rather pacific personality of the eldar as it may be, and she wanted to defend her realm, she had the safety of their people at heart and was not afraid to give her life if needed.

"They had thus decided to send me to a place where I could learn to be both, a place where I could reflect on what I really want, with lofty and mighty people and far from the threat of the shadow. You are not without knowing that my mother was born and raised in Lothlórien. She was even one of the handmaiden of Lady Galadriel before she met and married my father. She had talked with the Lady and the few friends she still had there, and they had agreed on the fact that I could benefit from living there for a time. I will learn both frrom Lady Galadriel and her entourage, and also from the Lórien guards."

Legolas felt a pent of sadness creeping into his heart. Laineryn was right, their parents must have discussed this. Their departures could not be coincidental. Did they see the changes that were, slowly but surely, occuring between the two of them? The two young elves had not yet aknowledged the evolution of their relationship, but there were looks and gestures that spoke louder than words. Legolas knew that he cared about Laineryn more than a friend ought to, and he had tried to deny it at first; it was not really fair for his childhood companion if she did not feel the same way. But Laineryn had let him thought that she indeed loved him that way, and they had tacitely agreed that they had plenty of time to act upon their growing feelings.

What now? What would happen when they would part ways in a few weeks, for longer than they had ever been apart? Should they formally confess their feelings for each other before they leave? How would their relationship survive distance and time? Would it even endure at all?

All those troubling questions flooded into Legolas' mind, and he could not find answers to them. They maybe needed time to understand all the implications and consequences their separations would have. The young ellon did not think that their parents wanted to take them apart; Laineryn as the daughter of the Lord Captain of the king's guard would be considered a very good match for the crown prince. But above all, customs of the Woodland Realm did not belive that differences in social classes was an obstacle for a mariage. Iluvatar had brought the Eldar with the capacity to love one soul to whom they would be binded for the rest of their eternity. Statuces in the court or the kingdom did not matter as long as the spouse of an important member of the people understood the responseabilities which came with his or her lover's position.

And Legolas was sure that Laineryn and he would be a perfect for each other. But he was thinking too much ahead, they had not even confessed their love yet.

He looked back at Laineryn, wondering what was going through her own thoughts. Maybe they were reflecting on the same things.

She stared back at him with troubled eyes and a sad smile, and after a brief hesitation, she took his hand in hers. Legolas shivered inwardly at the touch of their skin, even if it was not the first time they shared such a proximity.

"We will get through all this, Legolas," Laineryn eventually stated. "We have to obey our parents, and maybe seeing other places and other people will help us to grow. And make sure that certain things we feel are made to endure. We shall reflect on this"

She squeezed his hand affectionately and reassuringly, but Legolas was not certain she really belived what she was saying. They should hold to that promise thought, because they could not be sure of anything about the years to come.

So Legolas squeezed his friend's hand back and smiled, as convincingly as he could. They would endure, he had to hold to that.

oOo

As soon as he gets out from the horror he felt when he first laid eyes on Laineryn, Legolas runs towards her. She is laying on the muddy ground of the meadow, her right arm motionless at her side, torn in an unnatural angle. A rusted swords sticks out from her shoulder, and the ellon spots a dark patch on the tunic she is wearing under her light armor. This patch is growing with the seconds. And the blood is nearly black, sign of a poisonned wound.

He kneels at her side to gauge the damage. When he tries to touch the sword, she interrupt his gesture. Blue eyes meet gray and he can see the pain she is trying to hide. Her eyes are glassy and her strengths have started to leave her.

"Let me see this," he still asks, almost pleadingly.

"The sword is too deeply pushed in the muscles," the elleth manages to tell him. "If you removed it, the wound would be too deep and I would lose blood too fast to be saved."

"But I cannot let this horrific thing in your body!" Legolas protests, desperate at the mere thought. "We have to try something, or you are going to..."

"I am going to die, whatever we try, Legolas," she says softly, staring into his eyes.

Her words hits him like a strike of lightening, and Legolas' mind stops to function for a brief and startling instant. He cannot conceptualize what she is implying. This cannot be true. The battle has certainly been violent and deadly but... She cannot... he cannot...

A voice inside his head reminds him that the injuries and the deaths of the rest of their patrol are not less unfair than Laineryn's. That one life cannot be more valuable than another, that he cannot make a difference because it is his wife who is dying. This is something his father has warned him about, when they have both decided to be permanant members of the guard. That their lives would be put in danger and they could not put the other before their fellow warriors.

It is words they have both agreed on. But never have they thought that the occasion to hold to them would come so soon.

Because he cannot lose her. The thought is insane. Inconcevable. Because he remembers his father's grief when his mother died. And he does not know how he could survive this.

But he is losing her anyway, and he rationally knows that there is nothing him, her nor anyone else can do to prevent it.

She has once told him that dying while defending their people would be the only way she would consider departing Middle Earth for the Halls of Mandos. But he can find no comfort in the fact that it is indeed the way she is going to die.

They are running out of time, and even if he cannot — and will certainly never be able — to accept her death, he has to tell her goodbye. This is the only favor that fate will allow them, and, maybe later, in a future that he cannot foresee, he will be grateful for these last instants with her.

So he takes a deep breath, wondering how his body can still function as he is about to part with an essential part of him, but he dismiss the thought. He raises his hand and replace behind Laineryn's hear the black curls that have stuck to her forehead with blood and sweat. She closes her eyes at the sensation of his touch and she smiles, almost relieved. Peaceful. Legolas' mind revolts as the mere idea, but once more, he stops the track of his thoughts. He cannot go there. Not yet, not ever.

They are both strugling to find words, but none comes. Several times, they are about to say something, but they stop the words before they have the time to get out. Because words seem to weak, unsignificant. They cannot convey what they are living right now. Because Legolas can feel her pain, despite the fact she looks happy to have him at her side in the last instant of her life.

Legolas eventually leans over her and brushes his lips against hers, they are cold and it makes the ellon shiver. She closes her eyes and breathes in, as if she is commiting the feel of him to memory, as if she is afraid she will some day forget it.

"Laineryn."

It is only a whisper, but he knows that she will understand the words that he cannot himself find. And she nods, and through the bond they have formed with the union of their bodies not so long ago under the starry sky of an autumn night, Legolas feels a wave of warmth and love washing over him. It is so intense that it is almost painful, but he takes it all, quenching a thirst of her that will stop only when they will reunite in the West, in a future too far for them to comprehend.

"I will wait for you on the other side of the Sundering Seas," she breathes in a last strugle to remain conscious. "But do not forget your promise."

He nods, even if he is not sure of what she speaks, for his mind is into turmoil against which he cannot yet fight. But he promises, because it will bring her peace, and it is all he can do for her now.

He takes her in his arms, ignoring the rusted sword in her shoulder, the terrific feeling of her cold skin against his, the anarchic breathes that cross her lips, erratic with the pain coursing through her body. He closes his eyes and forget all that.

And soon, the body he is holding falls lifeless against his chest. And in his mind, he is now alone for the first time in the last few decades. And he knows it will last for as long as he will remains here, until he takes a ship for the West.

oOo

Translations:

Cellindis: flowing music

Calwen: light maiden

Fëars: souls

Ion nín: my son

Imladris: Rivendel

Peredhel: half elven

Naneth: mother


End file.
